The Smiths songs covered by indie/emo hopefuls

Striking Islamic roots album from Senegalese superstar

Listless ambi-minstrel recruits post-rock royalty

In the mid-'80s Alex Cox, having made Repo Man and Sid & Nancy to some acclaim, was deemed a financially viable punk auteur. This changed after Straight To Hell, his surreal anti-comedy-cum-spaghetti-western, which had a peculiar genesis. Cox had booked a bunch of less than abstemious musicians for a Solidarity Tour of Nicaragua.

Superb debut from string-laden troubadour

Scrupulously weird indie-rock from Seattle suburbs

Originally recorded in 1971, The Residents' debut The Warner Bros Album was rejected and has remained unreleased until now. Its first outing is as a remix LP, and it's fabulous. Prime early-era Residents, it's an idiosyncratic assault on contemporary music (The Beatles, Dylan) and society using chaotic avant jazz/rock/classical weaponry. To hear this already deconstructed music fed through the mincer of contemporary electronica only makes it even more confusing, disorienting, beguiling and downright delightful.

Tenth anniversary "upgrade" with six bonus tracks from the undervalued Ben Stiller film which caught the narcissism of Generation X nicely. These include New Order's "Confusion" and The Trammps' "Disco Inferno", with which there's no arguing. Also, less happily, songs from Ethan Hawke and Lisa Loeb, whose "Stay", from here, was one of the biggest US hits of the mid-'90s. Fine flurries, too, from The Posies, Dinosaur Jr, U2 and Crowded House, plus The Knack's utterly brilliant (you know it) "My Sharona".

As with the first Raimi Spidey film, the music of choice is heavy-to-middling emo rock. Why so? Why not something more web-like and spindly and pretty with lacy filigree? Guess it must've market-tested well first time round or we wouldn't again be subjected to plodding power-sludge from the likes (and boy are they ever alike) of Hoobastank, Maroon 5, Lostprophets and Jet, the last of whom so desperately want to be The Faces that it can only be days before they pen a lyric that goes: "You're breaking my heart 'cos you're stealing my tart".

Elmer Bernstein's classic score to the 1960 western, perhaps the last hurrah of traditional, pre-graphic-violence heroism. The film tanked at first in the US before European plaudits prompted re-promotion, and the Oscar-nominated music wasn't officially released until as late as the '90s. The title theme's unmistakable, and the sleevenotes to this package reveal two cute ironies. That theme, licensed out, sold more cigarettes than any other tobacco ad. Second, Bernstein was outside a Barcelona café last year, sitting by one of those mechanical horses that kids ride. It played his tune.